Pillow Talk
by K. Ly
Summary: "This is the last time I will be able to get into bed with you," Draco said. "You sound disappointed." Draco sneaks into Hermione's bed the night before she is supposedly getting married. Primarily fluffy goodness.
1. Penultimate

Title: Pillow Talk

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

AN: This plot bunny would not escape my head. I thought of it as a one shot, but it does have a possibility to spawn into multiple one-shots that cover Draco and Hermione's relationship. Draco is OOC. I've been out of the writing game for a while and wrote this quickly.

"Granger?"

Draco walked into Hermione's bedroom in the flat that she and Draco had both shared the last two years. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would ever have become roommates, let alone friends? Draco walked over to Hermione's left side of her bed as she had always favored the right. She faced towards the middle of her bed, her duvet tucked up to her chin, and her head placed on her down pillow with her chestnut hair fanning around her.

"Granger?" Draco asked again. The brunette's steady breathing had begun to annoy him as it was clear Hermione was still sleeping, despite his attempt to wake her up. He glanced at the muggle clock perched on her nightstand displaying 3:12 am. He sighed as he kicked off his shoes; his feet weary from standing in the club all night. He pulled back her duvet cover and climbed into her bed, his weight causing the bed to dip.

"Mmm," Hermione mumbled at the sudden shift of her bed. She wasn't alarmed. This was almost a nightly occurrence ever since she moved in Draco's flat.

"Granger." Draco shimmied in deeper pulling her blanket over his still clothed form.

"What is it, Draco?" she asked sleepily, her eyes still closed.

"This is the last time I will be able to get into bed with you," he stated matter-of-factly. He lay on the right side of his body, the right arm tucked underneath him so he could lay his head in his right palm. He stared at her intently.

"You sound disappointed."

"Oh I am."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Mmm."

"You're going to miss me."

"Miss you waking me up almost every night just to say how your day was?" she asked, still not opening her eyes.

"Absolutely."

"Mmmm," she shifted her body a little so that she was closer to the middle of the bed seeking more heat that Draco's body provided. "What time is it?"

"3:14 am."

"I have to get up in four hours," she mumbled into her pillow. Draco knew that she was getting married tomorrow…er…today. But he wanted to relish this moment because he knew he wouldn't be able to have another chance.

"It was awful by the way."

"Why was that?"

"You made me go to your fiancé's stag night," he stated flatly.

"I didn't make you go," she argued.

"Oh please. Like you didn't want me to tag along just to make sure the bloke didn't do anything stupid with those slags his friend hired."

"I think you were the one who wanted to go with them to keep him in line."

"I don't trust him."

"Oh, Draco, stop."

"Well, if you must know. He behaved well…unfortunately. Kept trying to get the man drunk but he wouldn't take anything stronger than a beer."

"Are you drunk?"

"Hell no. Malfoys can handle their liquor."

"I beg to differ," she cracked a small smirk that could have rivaled Draco's.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you remember the first time you climbed into my bed?"

"Vaguely."

"You were piss drunk from Theodore Nott's own stag party, and you ended up climbing into my bed instead of your own," she reminded him. "And then you proceeded to keep me up for almost half the night, talking about all the women at the party, asking me inane questions, and pouring out your feelings about-"

"Nope. Sorry, Granger. Doesn't ring a bell," he interrupted her. He paused to stare at Hermione's face. He always knew she was attractive. He just didn't care to admit it to anyone. "You know what else you'll miss?" he shifted his own body closer to hers so that they were almost touching.

"Hmm?"

"You're going to miss seeing my face as the last thing you see at night."

"At least the nightmares will stop."

"Funny."

"I thought it was. At least for 3 am."

"Do you love him?"

"Draco, what kind of question is that? You know I do."

"Does he make you happy?"

"Everyday," she yawned.

"I'm going to miss you, Granger."

"You'll see me at work almost everyday," she countered.

"It's not the same," he stated as he rolled back on his back, staring at her ceiling.

"Just because I'll be married?"

"Because you and I won't be roommates anymore. We'll just be co-workers. No more of your books scattered around the flat with parchment papers bookmarking your last spot. No more of your coffee cups spilling over in the sink. No more burnt pot roast for dinner. No more of your lacey knickers hanging in the loo. And forget our Friday nights in, watching that television thing and watching those crappy movies of yours, over and over again. No more… no more of sneaking into your bed at night, talking about… whatever. I think that's what I'll miss the most. It's become routine. Probably the only routine thing in my life that I've come to enjoy. But that's all gone to pot because you're getting married tomorrow. That'll be his place in your life. Being the last thing you see at night, and the first thing you'll see in the morning. Hermione?" Draco looked over to his right and saw that Hermione's breathing had steadied and her lips were slightly parted. She had fallen asleep. He sighed. How did he ever let this woman get so close to him, he thought. He was perfectly fine on his own. Then she had to muck it all up. Now she was leaving him. He had to give her over to her fiancé tomorrow.

"Not that she was ever mine to begin with," he scoffed in a whisper.

Hermione felt Draco's weight lift off of bed and heard his feet pad throughout her room where he reached the other side. Moments later she heard her bedroom door softly close. It was only then when she opened her eyes to stare at the empty space to her left, looking at the dip in her bed, the rustle in her sheets and smelling the remnants of Draco's cologne. Reaching out to the pillow Draco's head laid upon only moments before, she clutched it to her chest. She breathed deeply as a tear slowly escaped her eye, and fell down her cheek.


	2. The Beginning

Title: Pillow Talk, part 2

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

AN: Wow, thanks for the response. It encouraged me to continue this one shot!

_Two years prior..._

Hermione was exhausted. She had spent the majority of the day moving in her furniture, clothes, and the rest of her belongings in Draco Malfoy's flat. That's right. Draco. Malfoy's. Flat. Hermione had just broken it off with Ron, both realizing that their friendship was worth more than their romantic relationship. Because of this, Hermione needed a place to stay for a while, just until she could save up enough money to afford a flat on her own. Malfoy had offered Hermione a room in his flat when he overheard her griping about it in her office at the Ministry of Magic to a fellow coworker.

An important accomplishment that night was setting up her king sized bed with the proper bedding and bed frame. Her bed frame was a traditional dark mahogany sleigh bed. Her bedding was a cream colored duvet with matching pillows that Hermione swore was the most comfortable bedding ever. It was rare occasion when Hermione had trouble sleeping. Not bothering to wait up until Draco got home, wherever he may be, Hermione dressed for bed. She snuggled in her bed, and pulled out one of her favorite novels to read, _Pride and Prejudice_. Not realizing how tired she was, she slowly drifted off to sleep. Hermione was about to enter the wonderful state of a deep slumber when she felt her bed being jostled by the landing of a heavy body. She woke up startled and sat up immediately reaching over to her nightstand to turn on her lamp. She glanced at the clock, realizing that two hours had passed since she had tucked herself into bed. She turned back to the middle of her bed only to be greeted by Draco Malfoy himself. He was lying on his stomach, dressed in only what Hermione could muster was a nice black Muggle suit, with his baby blue oxford shirt collar poking out of his jacket collar. He was sprawled on the top of her duvet. And he was still wearing his dress shoes, she thought, fuming at the thought of them on her bedspread.

"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, attempting to wake him out of whatever drunken stupor he was in.

"Hmm?" he mumbled into her pillow, his face firmly planted in her comfortable down pillow.

She sighed. She looked down at what she wearing, and immediately felt the need to cover herself up a more. She would never hear the end of it if he were aware that all she donned was a simple, deep purple, silk nightie. Not wanting to leave the warmth of her bed, she pulled up the blanket as high as she could around her body. She turned towards Draco, tried to shake him awake, and at one point tried to push him off her bed with no avail.

"What?" Draco mumbled a little louder. His face still planted in her pillow, his body still lying on his stomach. An attempt to move him off her bed went unnoticed by Draco.

"Malfoy! You're in my bed!" Hermione screeched.

"Am I? I could have sworn this was my room." He raised his head up off her pillow and moved his head around to take in his surroundings. There were pictures hanging on the cream-colored walls, fresh cut flowers on the nightstand, and books. Lots of books. He promptly dropped his head back on her pillow after confirming that indeed he was in Granger's bedroom. He should have known by the smell of lavender coming off of her sheets.

"Well it's not. It's my room."

"So?" a muffled reply.

"So? You have your own bed! Get out of mine!"

"No."

"No?"

"No." He turned his head towards her, still resting on her pillow. Hermione stared at him, only realizing how silver his eyes were.

"What do you mean 'no'?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her so that they rested on the blanket covering her form.

"Your bed is far more comfortable than mine."

"That so?"

"Mhmm," he nodded.

"Well, even so. I think you should go back to your own bed."

"Why?"

"Because this is my bed! You have your own waiting for you down the hall! And you have your shoes still on!"

"Well if that's all it takes." He shifted so he could remove his shoes effortlessly by means of his own feet. With a resounding thud, his shoes rested on the floor.

"It's going to take a lot more than that," she argued indignantly.

"Oh really?" he raised his head, smirking. Flipping over so that he was resting on his back, he undid his buckle and he swiftly removed his belt.

"Not like that you pervert!" She immediately cradled her head in her hands, to avoid any strip show by him.

"Easy, Granger. My head is pounding." He tossed his belt near the vicinity of his shoes. As an afterthought, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the floor. He slipped his tie over his head and undid the top buttons of his shirt.

"By all means, make yourself even more comfortable," she muttered as he plopped back down on the bed. "Where did you even go?"

"Nott's stag party was tonight. He's getting married next week. Poor bloke," he sighed.

"What's wrong with getting married?"

"Everything. Look at my parents' marriage. They married to preserve their bloodline. I don't think my parents ever said 'I love you' to each other. They barely spoke even." Draco let out huge hand gestures with every sentence, once almost hitting Hermione square in the face.

"Not all marriages are like that."

"All the marriages I've been around have been like that," Draco affirmed, tossing his arms over his face to block out the light streaming from Hermione's lamp.

"My parents' marriage wasn't like that. My marriage definitely won't be like that," she countered. "I don't know how your parents could live like that. Being in a marriage and not saying 'I love you'. That's like living without breathing," she whispered.

"And who will have the honor of wedding the most elusive Hermione Granger?"

"I'm hardly elusive. I just… I don't know. It's hard to find a guy who likes me for me, and not liking me for being Hermione Granger, War Hero."

"And Weasel?"

"We were best friends. We both agreed that it was nothing more than that." Hermione arranged her legs so she was sitting criss-cross, still safely hidden under her blanket.

"Do you think you'll ever get married?" she asked looking down at him. The length of his entire body took up nearly the whole length of the bed.

"I don't know. I hope to one day."

"I don't think I'll ever get married. Well, I should take that back. I don't get think I'll get married for the reasons people are suppose to be getting married."

"Why would you be getting married?"

"To preserve the Malfoy bloodline and secure my heir," he stated in a superior, masculine tone, making a fist in the air.

"Was that supposed to be in your father's voice?" Hermione questioned with an amused, raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I kind of screwed that up."

"So you would marry someone to just have your heir?"

"Well not just anyone. She'd have to be a brilliant witch. Devastatingly beautiful. A strong woman. Witty. Well read. " Was he channeling Mr. Darcy or something, Hermione wondered as he list off his requirements?

"Pureblooded," she stated undeniably.

"That's my parents' stipulation, not mine."

"I see."

"Why? You interested, Granger?" asked as he leaned on the right side of his body, his right arm propping up his head.

"Most definitely not," she declared rolling her eyes.

"Shame." Hermione blinked at Malfoy's seemingly regretful response.

"I'm surprised you wouldn't mind marrying a half-blood, or muggle-born."

"Blood is blood, Granger. The war taught me that. I've dated a few muggleborns, you know."

"Really?" Hermione couldn't believe it.

"Mhmm. But obviously they didn't last."

Hermione remained tightlipped. She was still processing that the illustrious Draco Malfoy admitted to dating muggleborns, and wouldn't mind marrying one had his parents not demand it.

"Nice set up you have here, Granger. You moved in quick. Had no qualms about moving in your muggle devices I see. That's quite a large black square thing you have there." Draco looked at the dark furniture she had placed throughout the room: a dresser with a large mirror, an armoire, and a light blue flower printed armchair.

"It's a television, Malfoy."

"Ahh, yes. I've seen one of those. Interesting device."

"Thanks for letting me move in here, by the way. I was kind of shocked you even offered."

"I was more shocked you even accepted. Honestly, I might have been a little drunk when I offered," he admitted.

"Are you drunk now?"

"Hardly. I would have expected you to move in with Pothead."

"His name is Harry, or at least Potter to you, Malfoy. And he's living with Ginny now. I didn't want to intrude," she slid her hands down into her lap and clasped them together. There was a long silence. "Where did you go?" she asked attempting to start some conversation.

"Some pub in muggle London. Quite a fun night. There was this really fit girl hitting on me…"

"I'm not interested in hearing about that, thanks Malfoy."

"Better get used to it."

"Should I expect you coming into my room on a nightly basis?"

"We'll see. We'll try not to make it a habit."

"I prefer if we get to know each other better in a more appropriate setting, like a couch, or the dinner table and not my bed."

"Did you find everything around the flat okay?"

"I did, thank you."

"I was going to bring a girl back here but I remembered that you were going to be here. That would have been awkward."

"THAT would have been awkward? I can think of a more awkward situation that ended up occurring tonight," she stated crossly. "You should be aware that a girl's bed is like her sanctuary. A place provides peace and rest. It's not something that should be taken advantage of. I'm not one of those slags at those bars that invites any man into her bed."

Draco looked at Hermione as she ranted. Her brown hair was wavier that it was curly and cascaded down her back. She was slightly flushed from either embarrassment or rage Draco presumed.

"Suppose you and I work out some kind of system for the future if either one of us decides to bring someone home for the evening?"

"I doubt that will happen in my case, but if you end up finding someone, by all means. I don't intend on staying here very long, Malfoy. But I appreciate with you putting up with me."

"Don't mention it. Good lord, Granger. Are you naked underneath there?" Draco lifted up his left hand to motion towards her collarbone, nearly touching the slipping duvet against her chest.

"What! No!" Hermione looked down and saw that her thin straps had fallen down off her shoulders. "I'm wearing my nightgown. Which I definitely won't wear anymore until you can assure me you won't be barging in my room again." She fixed her straps and raised the blanket up to her neck, clutching it around her like a lifeline.

"Alright, Granger. I'm completely knackered and I can see I've outworn my welcome."

"What welcome? You barged in here, and got into my bed like it was no big thing."

"Well we clearly see the bed as two very different things. And I expect you wouldn't want me here, even if it were just to sleep. Well, I promise, Granger. It won't happen again."

With a groan, Draco rolled off her bed gracefully, picked up his discarded clothes off the floor, and waved goodbye as he crossed the room. With a cross of a threshold, he closed her door behind him. Hermione turned off her lamp and snuggled in deeply back underneath her covers. Hermione didn't know what to make of Draco's midnight visit. All she knew was that she was comforted that it wouldn't be happening again. And she would definitely be wearing flannel pajamas – just in case.


	3. The Art of Gifting

Title: Pillow Talk, part 3

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

AN: Thanks for the reviews! I love hearing feedback. I currently don't know how many chapters this story will be. There will be a conclusion with a resolved ending. I just can't promise when that will be. So it's best to stay tuned!

_Four months later…_

Hermione sat on her bed surrounded by a variety of gift-wrapping paper, tape, boxes, and tissue. It was her favorite time of year, Christmas and thus felt in the mood to wear her favorite red, plaid pajamas and listen to Michael Buble's new Christmas album. Looking around her room, she determined she had definitely made progress that evening. Most of the gifts were wrapped, tagged, and ready to be given to their respective owners. She currently was in the process of wrapping a gift for Ginny, a new set of dress robes from Madam Malkin's when a knock rapped on her door.

"Come in," Hermione granted entrance to her bedroom, not tearing away focus from her current project. The door opened wide to reveal Draco, still dressed from the day in dark grey pants and a green jumper over his white button down shirt.

"Good grief, Granger. It looks like chaos in here," he declared as he crossed across the room to the foot of her bed. He carefully navigated his way through the various plastic bags of ribbon, paper, and wrapped boxes.

"What do you mean?" she asked looking up.

"What's with the ribbon, paper, and boxes?" he asked gesturing and picking up a long piece of red ribbon that rested on her bed amid the mass of Christmas wrapping supplies.

"I'm wrapping presents!" she exclaimed stretching her arms out.

"For who? The entire population of England?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Noooooo," she emphasized as if she was child. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Where?"

"On the bed, Draco," she sighed as she tied the red ribbon onto Ginny's gift.

"There's no room!"

"Make room," Hermione shrugged.

"Who are these gifts for?" Draco asked as he set aside tubes of wrapping paper on the floor, along with fully wrapped Christmas gift bags.

"This one is for Ginny," she said after applying a red bow on top of the gift.

"And the other five hundred boxes?" he asked scooting himself on the left side of Hermione's king-sized bed. He leaned back on her pillows, seeking comfort after a long night out with his date that night, Astoria Greengrass.

"Ha ha," Hermione said. "Those by the door are for the Weasleys. Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill and Fleur, Ron…"

"Okay, I get it, I get it. And those by the closet?"

"Oh, that's Harry's, Luna's and Neville's."

"And the ones over here?" he asked, nodding his head to the gifts he had set on the floor.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and some other professors at Hogwarts."

"The ones on your dresser?" he pointed to her dark mahogany dresser on the far side of her room.

"Mum and Dad's," she replied plainly.

"Good grief."

"What? One of the best parts about the holidays is being able to give gifts to the people who are important to you," she argued as she set Ginny's finished present on the floor.

"Seems like a lot of effort," he replied, unconvincingly.

Hermione sighed. "It was. I'm exhausted. But it'll be worth it to see the looks on their faces when they open their gifts. That's one of the best rewards of giving out gifts at Christmas." She smiled at the thought.

Draco remained silent as Hermione's claim. He couldn't fathom spending so much energy, money, and time on purchasing, wrapping, and giving as many gifts as Hermione did.

"Have you done any Christmas shopping?" she asked, organizing the remaining scraps of gift-wrap paper.

"If you're asking about if I found anything for Mother, the answer is yes. I paid a visit to the jewelry store in Diagon Alley and found a necklace suitable to her tastes. It didn't take me long to get. It also helped that she was the one that picked it out and placed it on hold for me to purchase," he replied, nonchalantly.

Hermione frowned at Draco's confession. "You didn't even put any thought behind of what to get your mother?"

"Pshh. It saves me a lot more time if she just tells me what she wants. I don't spend weeks trying to think of a gift that she'll probably hate and she gets something that she knows she wants. It's a win-win situation, Granger," he answered.

"I always find that it's the thought behind the gift that counts. Are you buying any other gifts this year?" she questioned him.

"That's the only one," he replied frankly.

Hermione's shoulders dropped. "Really?"

"Mhmm. I don't see a point in spending any money on people I don't care for. Besides, I don't get any Christmas presents from anyone other than Mother so I wouldn't expect anything in return," he admitted to her.

"Oh," she whispered, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"Something the matter?" he asked seeing how dejectedly Hermione looked.

"No, nothing's wrong," she assured him, waving her hand back and forth in an attempt to remove any doubt.

"Something's bugging you." Draco could see it in her face. She wasn't smiling anymore. If anything she looked depressed at the thought of Draco's admission.

Hermione let out another sigh. Hermione swung herself off her bed and headed over to her dresser. She reached behind her parents' tower of gifts and retrieved a small, rectangular box. She walked back to the right side of her bed, her right hand outstretched with the gift.

"Happy Christmas, Draco." She let a small smile show on her face.

"Oh." Draco stared blankly at Hermione. He took the gift from her hands as she settled herself back down on her bed, tucking her legs underneath her.

"Open it," she urged him as he looked down at the gift box cradled in his hand. He stared at it as if it were a foreign object or as if it would bite his hand off if he even moved.

"It's not Christmas yet," he contended.

"My mum always said that it was okay to open one present before Christmas. It's our tradition to each open one on Christmas Eve, but I don't see why you can't open yours now," she reasoned.

Hesitantly, Draco untied the emerald green bow, and gingerly peeled off the silver wrapping paper.

Hermione laughed at Draco's tentativeness. "You can rip the paper, Draco. That's one of the best parts about opening gifts."

He smiled sheepishly and ripped the remainder of the gift-wrap. Revealed underneath was a velvet box. He slowly opened it to reveal what appeared to be a silver pen. But it was intricately designed, which confused Draco. The body of the pen was etched in scales, and the head of the pen morphed into a head of a fierce looking dragon while the cap of the pen transformed into its tail.

"It's a fountain pen. It's sort of like a quill, but you don't have to worry about refilling the ink. It's magically charmed to change the color of the ink according to your own wishes. No more worries about running out of ink or changing quills. I remember hearing you yell at your secretary when she couldn't find you a bottle of emerald green ink, and also when you tipped over that well of ink over your proposal that one day. I hope you don't think it's too ostentatious. I had it custom designed," Hermione rambled as he looked the pen over, carefully turning it over to admire the craftsmanship.

Draco was speechless. Never had he received a gift that was so…thoughtful? In the past, he received gifts from his mother and father. Mostly they were extravagant gifts that he couldn't even remember using. But this…

"Thank you, Hermione," he choked out, still holding onto her gift. "I'll use it everyday."

"You're welcome," she replied, beaming at the sight of Draco's surprised and appreciative face. "See? I told you it's worth it."


	4. Mr Fashionista

Title: Pillow Talk, part 4

Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer applies.

AN: Thanks for the reviews! I encourage all readers to leave a little review because its really what gets authors motivated to continue stories. Even suggestions or prompts would be nice, or a simple "Update soon!" will do. =) These chapters will jump around in the two year timeline, possibly backwards and forwards. I might extend the timeline if it suits the story's needs but for now, it will do.

_Three months after that..._

"You are not helping."

"I'm sorry, Granger but I'm not good at this."

"What are you talking about? Clothes practically jump on you and everything you wear screams..."

"Screams what?" Draco smirked as he lowered his Daily Prophet. He had taken up residence as usual in Hermione's bed, reclining on top of her covers, his feet crossed at his ankles, and his shoes resting on the floor near the foot of the bed. He was wearing a fresh white linen button down and black slacks. His black coat was draped on the footboard of her bed. He had just come home to change into fresh clothes for his evening out when Hermione begged for his help. Apparently she was going out on a date and had no sense whatsoever as to what to wear.

"I'm not going to finish that sentence. Your ego is big enough as it is," she claimed looking over various clothing that was laid out on the other side of the bed.

"I can't help it. I always look good. It's the Malfoy gift," he said as he raised his Daily Prophet back into view.

"Help me, Draco!" Hermione whined.

"What is so hard?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Well should I wear pants? A dress? Jeans? Help!"

"Where's Red? She's far more qualified than I am in dressing in women's clothing. Now, If you need help in removing women's clothing, I'm your man," he drawled.

"Ginny's sick. And I can't find anything that I like," she replied, ignoring his comment.

"Ugh. You women. I swear it's like a freaking production every time."

"Draco!" She had firmly planted her hands on her hips and for a minute there, he swore that she even stomped her foot like a petulant child.

"Just go put something on, and I will be the judge." He waved her to go inside her walk-in closet.

Hermione huffed away into her walk in closet, and began to rummage through the hangers. "How's Astoria?" she asked from within.

"She's fine. I'm taking her out tonight. Mother had her over for tea last Sunday. Mother thinks she's the perfect girl. She believes she embodies what every Malfoy wife should be. Obedient, obliging, beautiful..."

"Pure-blooded," she finished for him. "I doubt she's well read though," Hermione smirked.

"Hey now. She reads," he said defensively. "Reads Witch Weekly or something," he said quietly.

"Okay, what about this?" Hermione walked out wearing a grey, high waist skirt, a blue button down, and a matching grey cardigan.

"What are you, a school marm? Next!" he replied. She glared at him as she walked back into her closet.

"So it's been quite a while since you've been dating her. I'm sure she expects something after all the attention you've been giving her," she assumed.

"I suppose so," he replied nonchalantly flipping his newspaper.

"Don't lead her on, Draco. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," she warned from inside the closet.

"I told you what I think about marriage, Granger. She knows that love isn't involved," he assured her.

"If that's the story you want to go with it. All right. What do you think of this?" she walked out wearing a navy blue and white, horizontal striped, knee-high cashmere dress.

"Definitely not," instantly giving his veto.

"Why not?" she asked looking down at herself.

"It makes you look fat," he stated frankly.

"DRACO MALFOY!" Hermione shrieked, popping her head back up and her eyes widening.

"What?" he asked, not realizing the enormous faux pas he had made.

"You never tell a woman that she looks fat!" she exclaimed picking up a Converse shoe and throwing it at his head.

"I'm not saying you are! I'm saying that outfit makes you look it!" he ducked his head from the shoe that whizzed past his left ear.

"Then say you don't like the color! Don't say because it makes me look fat! You are on my list," she declared pointing at him as she walked back into her walk in closet, this time slamming the door. "Emotional range of a teaspoon…"

"Oh come on, Granger. Come on out." Draco tossed the Daily Prophet onto her bed before making his way to her closet.

"No, I'm fat," she replied from inside.

"You are not fat," he said, sighing at her claim.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," she seethed.

"I'm sorry! I've never done this before," he said to the closed closet door, raising his shoulders in confusion. "I don't know how to give my opinion to women. No one ever asks for it really. I think you're the first woman who actually cares about what I say. Astoria never asks if she looks good, she tells me."

"I could see that. Although, after this experience, I would think twice about asking for your opinion. Of all days for Ginny to be sick," she muttered stripping off her clothes. It was then when she eyed an outfit she had never worn before, only because it was given as a gift and a bit daring.

Draco rapped on her closet door. No answer. He sighed. Why didn't he have sisters? At least that could have prepared him for how to handle women and clothes. Any other person he would have removed his wand from his pocket and cast an _Alohamora _but Granger wouldn't hesitate hexing his balls off in retaliation. "Come on, Granger. Please? I promise I won't tell you that you look-"

"How about this one?"

Hermione had opened the door to reveal herself behind it wearing a simple, haltered, black jumpsuit with a silver loop chain belt hanging low around her waist. The v-neck was deep enough to cause any man to look twice, however, remained classy against Hermione's frame. Even though the pant was wide leg, Draco could see on her feet she wore silver pumps with a three-inch stiletto heel. Her hair was loosely tied in a bun at the nape of her neck with soft tendrils framing her face.

"Um…yeah…that works," Draco stammered. He nodded slightly to give another sign of approval.

"I don't look fat? Black is supposed to be slimming," she said as she smooth out the wrinkles in her outfit.

"Granger, you were never fat."

"I still can't believe you said I was fat," she replied as she walked over to her dresser to put her diamond studs in. "You're a right git, you know that? By the way, if you ever do get married, and your wife is pregnant and she asks you if she looks fat, say no."

"Duly noted. Lesson learned. Who is this guy anyway? Why do you care so much about how you look like?" he asked standing behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. It scared him how attractive of a couple they both were standing together. He still towered over a bit even with her wearing her heels.

"Because I really like this guy. The guys I've been dating lately have been horrible, and this one actually might have a brain. He works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to look good. You of all people should know that. You spend hours in front of the mirror just fixing your hair."

"Not hours. Half hour at the most." His mind immediately racked up the possible contenders for Granger's heart but that was almost an impossibility seeing how many men were in that department vying for a shot with Hermione Granger, War Hero.

"You mean, at the least," she countered as she applied light makeup.

"Where's this bloke taking you, by the way?" he asked, plopping himself back on her bed, resuming his original position. He turned his attention back to the paper, and not to Hermione's bare back and rear as he caught himself doing.

"He said he wanted to take me to this new restaurant in Wizarding London."

"And you thought it would be appropriate to wear jeans?" he mused. Hermione shot him another death glare through her reflection in the mirror.

Draco coughed awkwardly. "Anyway, I'd much prefer you to be in those flannel pajamas and socks, eating a pint of ice cream, and watching one of those muggle movies on that television of yours," he replied.

"Hmph. Maybe that's why I'm fat," she grunted as she placed her wand in her large evening clutch.

"You're not fat!" He grabbed her pillow and attempted to suffocate himself in order to escape her mutterings.


	5. Epilogue?

Pillow talk: Epilogue

AN: Oh…em...gee. So sorry for the near abandonment of this fanfic. I wanted to give this fanfic more chapters that covered the entirety of Draco and Hermione's relationship but due to guilt about not publishing anything for four months, I felt that this was long overdue and wanted to conclude the story. However, chapter additions are not entirely out of the realm of possibility. Thanks for joining me on this plot bunny. =)

Draco was dreaming. He was sure of it. His surroundings seemed too dreamlike. All of the white seemed to support his claim. White chairs. White flowers. White dress. He was outside with the sun beating down on the wedding ceremony. A lake off to the left provided a cool breeze. He looked over his shoulder as the entire congregation stood at the announcement of the bride evidenced by the change of the music. Draco was in the front row at the insistence of Hermione herself, joining Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione's mother. All of them were beaming at Hermione's sheer joy as she walked down the aisle with her father, his arm supporting her as they walked. He was watching Hermione walk down the aisle towards someone who wasn't him. He pinched himself to try and wake himself up if he was asleep. Nothing. Was this a dream? Or was it reality? A premonition? He tried slapping himself in the face, earning strange looks from Harry and Ginny. Harry asked Draco if he was okay or had gone loony. Draco stated the negative and looked on. He felt ill. Hermione arrived at the front with her father and stood before the groom. She kissed her father before he handed her off to her future husband. Draco's stomach sank as he began to hear the Minister of Magic, Kingsley himself, begin the magic binding ceremony. He began to zone out as the Minister spoke, hearing nothing. Draco's thoughts flashbacked to the night before. He poured his feelings out to an unconscious Hermione. He always knew he loved her, but didn't want to admit it, because he knew he would have to give her up in the end. At that moment, Draco realized something. He didn't want to give her up. He wanted her. He loved, no, loves her. He couldn't let the revelations of his feelings be delivered to an unconscious Hermione. He had to tell her when she was good and awake. Like now.

Draco had never been to a wedding before, although he had seen many muggle weddings on the box in Hermione's room. Wasn't there a part of the ceremony where the man asked if there was anyone who objected to the wedding? _Speak now or forever hold your peace. _What would he say? _I object. _Too movie-like. _Hermione's mine! _Too possessive. Borderline creepy as well. _Don't do it! _Well that's not romantic. Say what you said last night, he concluded. _I want to be the last person you see at night and the first person you see in the morning. _Draco'_s_ throat felt closed up as he tried to speak. Nothing came out of his mouth because it was too late. The ceremony was complete as Hermione and her new husband completed the bond with a kiss. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Damn it. He felt like he was suffocating as Hermione walked back down the aisle with her husband, cheerfully waving at the guests as they passed by. He turned his back on them looking off into lake by the ceremony. He couldn't breathe. He bent over, bracing his hands on his thighs and tried to regain his composure. Harry, who was looking at the newlyweds leave, turned back around with a concerned look on his face as he saw Draco. He asked Draco what was wrong and nudged Ginny to help him get Draco into the chair. Draco shook his head furiously. This couldn't be happening. He let the one stable, healthy thing walk out of his life. He tried to breathe but found it difficult. He felt like the weight of the world was slowing coming down on his shoulders. And suddenly it came crashing down with a large shove.

His eyes opened and he was suddenly staring into familiar brown ones. Her curly hair framed her face that bore a slight frown. "What happened?" he asked drowsily, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"You were having a bad dream," she stated matter-of-factly. She remained standing at the side of his bed. He propped himself up slightly on his elbows as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was in his room. That was for sure. The large king-sized bed and his silk sheets gave that away. He was settled on the left side of the bed, as he always was. It was dark still with only slivers of the moonlight shining through the windows into the bedroom. Looking around he tried to make sure he wasn't still dreaming. Everything was still its rightful place. The large dresser and armoire remained against the wall. Tasteful artwork carefully hung on the wall as well. Framed pictures resting neatly on the dresser. He held up his left hand and looked at it closely. There as it should have been was his wedding ring on his ring finger, illuminated by the moonlight.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was a dream. A nightmare. He turned his head to the left back to those big, brown eyes. "Cassie, what are you doing out of bed?" he asked his six year old daughter who remained on his side of the bed, clutching a stuffed toy to her chest. A ferret, Draco concluded. A gift from Uncle George no doubt.

"I had a nightmare, too. Can I come and sleep with you and Mummy?" Cassie asked sweetly, shuffling her feet.

Draco looked over to his right and saw Hermione sleeping soundly underneath the covers with her matching curly, brown hair fanned on her pillow. "Sure, honey. Just be careful not to wake your mother," he said.

Cassiopeia, known as Cassie to her family and friends, climbed on top of her parents' king sized bed and settled herself in between her mother and father, underneath their blanket as well. Hermione still hadn't moved an inch. Cassie dropped her head on her father's pillow and looked at him as he settled his own head back onto his pillow.

"Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?" he asked looking at her and wrapping his right arm around her.

"There was a dragon in it, but he was mean and scary. And he took Mummy away and locked her in a castle. And you tried to rescue Mummy but you couldn't because you had no way to get up to the tower. And then there was this big lion that was going to eat you and Mummy tried to rescue you, but she couldn't because she was still in the tower and didn't have her wand. And then Mummy was sad because you left. And then I was sad because I saw you left." Cassie's voice got caught in her throat as she struggled to say her last sentence.

"Sounds like some dream," Draco stated.

Cassie nodded her head, still clutching to the plush ferret. "You wouldn't leave Daddy ever, would you?"

"Never. I would battle all the dragons and lions in the world just to stay with you."

"And Mummy too?"

"Definitely Mummy too."

"What was your dream about?" Cassie asked curiously.

Draco paused. "Daddy dreamed what would have happened if Mummy didn't marry Daddy."

Cassie also paused at hearing her father's statement. "Would you have been sad?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Daddy would have been very sad. Someday, I'll tell you the story how Mummy married Daddy, but right now it's too late to tell the story."

"You promise to tell the story?" Cassie asked.

"I promise."

Cassie paused at her father's promise and gave a smile of relief. "You're not mad I came in here tonight are you?" Cassie asked as she snuggled in deeper to Draco's side.

"I could never be mad at you, sweetheart," Draco assured her with a squeeze.

"Even if it's late at night?"

"Even if it's late at night," he repeated. He paused thoughtfully. "You know, your Mummy and I used to stay up at night talking like this before we got married and had you."

"What did you talk about?" she asked as she let out a yawn.

Draco chuckled softly at his daughter's admission of fatigue. "Oh, we would talk about how our day was, what we did at work. One time your Mummy asked me what clothes she should wear."

"I can't believe you told Mummy she was fat," Cassie giggled.

"I didn't say she was fat!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice.

"That's not what Mummy says."

"Well, I learned not to tell Mummy that she was fat, especially since she asked all the time when she pregnant with you. Daddy told Mummy she was still the most beautiful woman in the world even if she ate 1000 tons of ice cream."

"Oh, Daddy. You're so silly." Cassie burrowed herself in her father's chest, seeking warmth. She yawned and closed her eyes, drifting soundly off to sleep as Draco stroked her back. Draco was slightly sleeping as well when he felt a pair of feet intertwining with his. He opened his eyes and was staring into Hermione's brown ones. She had snuggled in closer towards Draco, mindful of Cassie's slumbering form between them. She wrapped her arm around Cassie and Draco, blissfully happy about the state of their family.

"Another nightmare?" she asked securing their covers.

"Mhmm," he affirmed.

Hermione kissed Cassie's head, which was still tucked into Draco's shoulder and neck. "Poor baby."

"This getting into our bed has practically become a nightly occurrence."

"She must get it from her father."

"Beg pardon?"

"Oh, darling. You always somehow found yourself in my bed before we were married. Most of the time it was because you were drunk. Cassie's reason is far more reasonable and appropriate."

"Didn't hear you complain back then," he smirked.

"Oh, I beg to differ!" she whispered sharply.

"Does that mean you're complaining now?"

"Well, I got to confess. I guess I never really minded that you always snuck in my bed. You were and still are a great deal warmer than any other heating blanket I ever had."

"See?"

"You're still not off the hook for calling me fat, though."

There's the happy conclusion that I knew everyone was looking for. I hope for more future chapter additions to this story. Thanks for all the great reviews and feedback!

K. Ly


	6. Bedtime Stories

Standard Disclaimer applies.

Title: Pillow Talk: Bedtime stories

"And then, Nana Cissy took me to Diagon Alley and she bought me an ice cream, and we went to the bookshop, and we went to Madam Malkins and she bought new dress robes and bought me a new dress…" Cassie continued to ramble as Draco picked up various toys around Cassie's bed and put them back in their respective places. It was Draco's turn to get Cassie ready for bed, involving her usual bedtime bath, changing her into pajamas, getting her a glass of water, picking up her room, and of course, her ritual bedtime story.

"Sounds like you had a busy day," Draco concluded as he tucked Cassie under her pink covers. He smiled at his daughter, the spitting image of his wife of eight years. "You must be too tired for your bedtime story."

"Nuh uh!" She tried to stifle a big yawn, but was unsuccessful.

Draco chuckled. "No, I think that you need to go to bed. I already read you The Tales of Beedle the Bard while you took your bath."

"But Daddy…"

"Daddy had a big day too, sweetie and tired as well. I think it's best if you just go on to bed," Draco said as he dimmed the night lamp and walked away from her bed.

"But you still haven't told me how you and Mummy got together," she pleaded.

"Another night, baby. Go to bed," Draco said nearing the door.

"You promised," she pouted.

Draco sighed. He stopped himself in the middle of Cassie's doorway and turned around, with his hands tucked in his dress pant pockets. "I did, didn't I?"

Cassie nodded her head furiously, clutching her beloved ferret plush toy.

"Alright," Draco conceded. Draco made his way over her large bed and got on top of her covers.

Cassie frowned.

"What?" he asked.

Cassie raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at his shoes on her covers. Draco sighed heavily, and kicked his shoes off. "You are your mother's daughter. Is there any part of me that you inherited?"

"…I did give James Potter a Hiccough Sweet when he kept teasing me about my hair yesterday," she smiled sweetly.

Draco laughed out loud. "Oh, you are my daughter."

"The story Daddy!"

"Okay, okay. You definitely get your impatience from Mummy."

"So you said Mummy was supposed to marry another man?"

"Yes, I did say that."

"Well, why did Mummy marry you then?"

"You don't think Mummy should have married me?" Draco sported a hurt look on his face.

"Of course not! I wouldn't be here if Mummy didn't marry you, would I?"

Draco raised his eyebrows at Cassie's conclusion. "You wouldn't?"

"No, because it took you and Mummy to make me in Mummy's belly, remember?"

"Did Mummy tell you that?"

"Mhmm. Mummy told me that in order to make a baby, you need a mummy and a daddy. And the daddy puts the seed in the mummy's belly. And then the seed turns into a baby, and voila! Cassie!" she smiled, raising her arms in triumph.

Draco chuckled at Cassie's explanation. "You are right. If Mummy didn't marry Daddy, you wouldn't be here."

"So why did Mummy marry Daddy?"

"Well, the day of Mummy's wedding to the man other than Daddy…"

Draco woke up with a slight headache. The morning rays were currently shining through the window drapes, causing him to wince. He buried his head back under his covers, unwilling to face the events of the day. He couldn't believe what had occurred only hours before. He had willingly given up his feelings about his living situation with Hermione. Why had he waited until the night before her wedding to give up his feelings? Was he trying to make her stay? Was he trying to tell her that he liked her… a lot? Did he regret it? No. Draco didn't regret what happened last night; because he knew that it was the last night he would be able to spend a night with her.

He looked at the clock and realized if he didn't get ready soon, he would be late to Hermione's wedding. An hour later he found himself at the ceremony, watching several guests mingle amongst themselves as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

"Draco?" a woman's voice asked.

Draco turned around and saw Ginny, dressed in her matron of honor dress, an emerald green sweetheart gown.

"Yes, Red?"

"Hermione is asking for you."

Draco frowned. He wasn't prepared to see Hermione before the wedding. He may have been prepared to see her after the wedding when he knew she was spoken for and had a MRS. in front of her name. Why did she want to see him? Curiosity killed the cat. Draco coughed. "Um, sure. Where is she?"

Ginny gestured over to the house overlooking the outside ceremony. "She's upstairs. The first door on the left by the staircase."

"Thanks." Draco walked inside the house and walked up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he found himself at the door. He knocked softly.

"Come in," Hermione allowed.

Draco opened the door and saw Hermione dressed in her wedding gown. A vision in white, the full skirt accentuated her tiny waist. The sweetheart neckline was delicate and there was not a rhinestone in sight. It was simple, elegant, and very Hermione. "You're beautiful."

Hermione smiled and looked down at herself. She smoothed down her dress, looked back up, and took in Draco's face. He was mesmerized. "You wanted to see me?" Draco asked.

"Um…yeah. I wanted to talk to you before I left this morning, but you were still sleeping and I didn't want to wake you up. Especially…ahem…with what happened last night."

"What happened last night?" Draco asked, playing dumb.

"Well, you came into my bed after the stag party and started to tell me how much you are going to miss me and I guess I fell asleep on you…" Hermione rambled.

Draco let out a small chuckle.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I was really tired from that day with the wedding planning and the packing, and everyone asking me all these questions, I was exhausted, and I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It's okay, Hermione. No hard feelings," Draco smirked. "I should go. Let you get ready to walk down the aisle." He saw the uncertainty on her face, evidenced by the biting of her bottom lip. He had to assure her she was making a good decision, no matter what heartbreak he may suffer. "He's a good man, Hermione. Lucky man." Draco turned away and was about to leave when Hermione stopped him.

"I wanted to tell you, that I'm going to miss you too. I'll miss the Sunday afternoons reading the Daily Prophet. I'll miss asking you for your fashion advice," Hermione smirked. "I'll miss learning how to cook random recipes and burning dinner, I'll miss teaching you about muggle customs and showing you around Muggle London."

Draco's chin dropped down to the floor in an attempt to hide any emotion that would show on his face.

Hermione continued, "I'll miss you getting into my bed and having inane and thoughtful conversations at two in the morning. It was kind of a comfort I had. Knowing almost every night, you would come into my room and say goodnight, no matter how late it was. Knowing you were home, safe, and that…you cared."

A long pause occurred after Hermione's confession. Draco didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell her that he loved her. That he's always loved her. Not on her wedding day. It wasn't fair. Not to Hermione. It wasn't fair to Draco, either. But in the end, Draco knew what he had to do. Draco coughed. "I'll miss you too, Hermione."

Draco turned and left the room, leaving Hermione standing in the room, alone. Draco walked numbly downstairs and was about to step outside back into the ceremony, however, he found himself stopping in the foyer. Instead of walking back to the ceremony, he apparited away.

Draco got home to his flat hours and hours later. He didn't remember where he had gone after he left the ceremony. But he remembered that he ended up at Malfoy Manor. The grounds were beautiful this time of year and he spent hours walking around the estate. Thinking what had occurred that day. He said his goodbyes. Looking back at the Manor and all of its splendor, he concluded the gut wrenching feeling would go away. It would take time, most definitely. But Draco felt confident that he would move on eventually. His thoughts wandered back to Astoria. Maybe he should try and start things up with her again. Take his mind off Granger. He was distancing himself from her now. No longer Hermione, just Granger.

He shrugged off his cloak and suit jacket onto the couch. Already, his home seemed empty. He suddenly became angry with himself for letting Hermione get so close to him. It was all of a mistake. Every bit of it. From the moment she stepped foot into his flat, everything changed. He yanked off his tie and threw it on the floor. Angrily, he kicked off his shoes in the hall, not caring where they landed. He opened his bedroom door in a haste to get to his bathroom and take a shower to wash off the day's grime and emotional exhaustion. And he stopped. His throat suddenly became very dry at the sight before him. The last vision he expected to see that night would be Hermione, in her wedding dress, tucked in his bed, and fast asleep.

"The end," Draco stated simply.

"Daddy!" Cassie whined.

"It's way past your bedtime, Cassie."

"But that wasn't the end of the story!"

"No, because it's the end for tonight."

"There was no happy ending!"

"You know the ending already, baby. It has a happy ending."

"Why didn't Mummy marry that man, though? What happened when you found her sleeping in your bed? Did you kiss her to wake her up like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White?"

"…You would have to ask your mother that," Draco stated.

"But Daddy…" Cassie yawned.

"Another night, I promise. I'll finish the story, another night," Draco assured her as he lifted himself off of Cassie's bed, retucking her in the bed. He kissed her cheek and smoothed out her hair.

"Alright, Daddy."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"Lu-you," she mumbled as her eyes drooped closed.

Draco closed the bedroom door quietly and found himself face to face with Hermione, who was leaning against the wall. "Oh, hello there."

"You skipped some parts of the story," Hermione stated.

"I think those parts are best when she's older," Draco concluded.

"Why didn't you finish the story?" Hermione smiled.

"Got to keep her hooked in. Besides, I think she should hear the story from you, too," he said as he draped an arm around her shoulder and walked her further down the hall towards the living room.

"Oh yes, because Merlin knows you like to exaggerate the details," she scoffed.

"I do not exaggerate," Draco argued.

"Mhmm," Hermione smirked as she pulled away to settle herself down on the couch. Draco shortly joined her and settled in the crook, grabbing the Daily Prophet. Hermione grabbed her book and laid her head in Draco's lap.

"Are you happy?" Hermione asked after few moments of silence.

"Of course. I have my wife in my arms and my six year old daughter sleeping safe and sound in her bed."

"I mean…are you happy that I came back that day? You said you thought you would marry Astoria in your story. I never knew that," Hermione softly asked.

Draco dropped his paper on the end table and stared straight down into Hermione's eyes, whose head remained in his lap. He settled his right hand on her hairline, brushing away her hair. "Hermione Granger-Malfoy," he stated sternly. "I was deliriously, unequivocally, heart-bursting happy that you were in MY bed that night when I came home. And I do not exaggerate. Not a day goes by where I don't picture that image of you, in my bed, sleeping soundly without a care in the world. And I am so thankful and blessed, that that image is recreated every night. I am 100% sure that I would have never married Astoria if you decided to walk a different path. Maybe in an alternate universe, but not this one. I would have died a lonely, miserable, old man, still pining after you as you built your own family…"

Hermione held two fingers up her husband's mouth to silence him. She didn't want to hear what would have happened. For now, she wanted to live the life she happily chose. Hermione let out a huge breath that she didn't know she was holding. She looked up into Draco's eyes and saw nothing but love and devotion. "I love you."

"I love you," Draco smiled. Hermione returned to her book trying to hide the tear that ending up dropping onto Draco's pant leg.

"So I have a question," Draco stated as he picked up his Daily Prophet and returned to reading.

"Yes?" Hermione asked flipping a page.

"Who are Sleeping Beauty and Snow White?"

Leave a review! It may spur more chapters. ;)


	7. Itchy & Scratchy

Title: Pillow Talk: Itchy and Scratchy

Standard Disclaimer applies.

AN: I have finally finished my master's degree and I am finding myself with all this free time! Thanks for the great reviews. I enjoy the encouragement and if you have any prompts for me, please feel free to suggest!

"Granger! I'm home!" Draco opened the door to his flat and placed his wand on the glass table by the door. It was Saturday and Draco had just returned home from lunch with his parents, suffering an hour and a half of their urgings for him to marry soon. Particularly dropping hints at possible prospects in Astoria Greengrass or her sister, Daphne. Taking off his cloak, Draco surveyed the London flat. "Granger! Are you here?" Draco walked down the hall to Hermione's room and noticed her door still closed. Uncharacteristically, he knocked on the door. "Granger!" he said in a sing-song voice. He opened the door and took in the sight before him. Hermione was belly down on her bed with her left arm draped over the edge of her bed, her left leg tucked on top of the covers while the remaining parts of her body was left covered. Her brown, chestnut hair fanned over the pillow as well as the side of her face. Draco looked at his muggle watch, a gift from Hermione on their second Christmas together as flatmates. 1:38 pm.

Draco walked over to Hermione, "Geez, Granger. It's 1:30 pm and you're still in bed? Lazy much?"

Hermione mumbled something unintelligible.

"Granger, you know I can't understand you underneath that bushy hair."

"I'm not lazy, you ninny," Hermione wheezed out. "I'm sick."

Draco took a large step back. "Are you contagious?"

"Why? You afraid you're going to catch my muggleborn germs?" Hermione coughed.

"No. I'd just rather not get sick before my date tonight," he argued.

"I'm fine." Hermione over onto her back and brushed away her hair. It was only then when Draco noticed the full extent of Hermione's illness.

"Holy hell, Granger! Do you have Dragonpox?" Draco yelled. Her face and arms were covered in red pocks and rashes.

"Do I look like I have Dragonpox? My skin isn't green, is it?" Hermione countered.

"Then what's all over your body?" Draco craned his head closer.

"It's chickenpox," Hermione said, her eyes closed, still flat on her back.

"Why were you handling chickens?"

"You don't get chickenpox from chickens. It's an airborne sickness. It's a common muggle childhood illness. I never had it when I was a kid, though. I probably caught it from some kids at that birthday party a few days ago," Hermione moved her left arm to cover her eyes from the bright light shining into the room.

"You can't drink some potion or something?"

"It's a muggle illness, Draco. My best bet is to lay in bed, get rest, and try not to scratch my face off. They have some lotion to help with the itchiness."

"Is it itchy?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. It's taking all of my energy not to rub up against something right now."

"Oh really?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

"That wasn't an invitation," she moved her arm off her face and gave him an intense stare.

"How do you feel?" he finally asked.

"My throat is sore, I have a headache, and I'm nauseated."

"Where's that fiancé of yours? He should be here taking care of you," Draco replied.

"He had to take a portkey to Egypt for work for the Ministry. Plus he's never had chickenpox, so I wouldn't want him to catch it."

"What? It's contagious?" he screeched.

"Highly."

"Granger!"

"You're the one who barged in here!"

"Because I was worried about you!"

"Liar! You came in here to berate me about how you thought I was still lazy for being in bed!"

"Are you telling me that I'm going to look like you and get red marks all over my body?"

"Mhmm. Don't forget the itching. If you scratch, you leave scars."

Draco's eyes widened at the horror of possibly scaring his perfect, alabaster skin.

Hermione winced with a loud groan and kicked off her covers. "Oh Merlin! This is unbearable! I want to scratch so bad!" Hermione begin to rub her hands on her legs, still covered by her pajama pants.

"Hey! Stop that!" Draco automatically grabbed her hands to stop.

"Oh what do you care!" Hermione resisted.

"I'd rather my flatmate not be scarred horribly, thank you very much."

"Oh, no you don't. You could care less what I look like." Hermione stopped her actions and glared at Draco as he released his hold on her.

"Do you want to walk down the aisle in a few months with pock marks all over you face, and your pictures plastered all over Rita Skeeter's column? I could imagine the title now, "Pock Mark War Heroine Marries!" Draco triumphantly announced.

"Meanie." Hermione unconsciously begin to scratch her belly.

"You have no self control."

"I have plenty of self control!" Hermione pulled her covers over her head, in an attempt to hide the fact she was scratching the side of her neck.

"You couldn't last five minutes!"

"Well you'll never know, because you have a date tonight," came the muffled reply.

"I'll cancel," Draco said simply.

"What?" Hermione asked as she uncovered herself, her face flushed.

"I'll cancel. You need someone here to take care of you and make sure you don't scratch."

"You've never had chickenpox before. You're going to catch it."

"I already most likely caught it already when I walked in here. I might infect my date tonight and forever be known as "That guy that gave me that disease." I can't ruin my reputation. Besides, if I go, I might infect the entire Wizarding London with your muggle disease. Then we'll really have an epidemic."

"You don't have to stay with me," Hermione sighed.

"So what do you propose I do to make sure you don't scratch? Tie your hands to the bedposts? Kinky," Draco smirked at the thought.

"I don't think it would have to go that far," Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she sat herself up in bed.

"Body binding curse?" he suggested.

"Well that's just cruel."

"Tape your hands closed? I'm running out of ideas here, Granger. I can see it now. You walking down the aisle in the white dress, covered in horrible scars. You have a veil to wear right?" Draco suddenly slapped away Hermione's wandering hands over her arms and belly.

"Ow!" Hermione retaliated as she attempted to slap him.

"I had to resort to drastic measures," Draco defended himself as he jumped away.

"Okay, fine. You can make sure I don't scratch," Hermione conceded.

Hours later in the evening found Draco in Hermione's king sized bed, in his own pajamas, eating Chinese takeaway food as Hermione enjoyed her wonton soup. On the television was a muggle movie Draco had never seen before. Draco kept Hermione's mind off the scratching by talking throughout the various movies that they watched throughout the day.

"I don't get it. I mean, clearly there was enough room for both of them on the raft. She was just being selfish," Draco concluded as the movie ended.

"Says the man who ate the last eggroll," Hermione scoffed.

"It's an eggroll, Granger. Not a matter of life and death."

"It's romantic, Draco."

"It's selfish. She totally should have married that other guy."

"She didn't love him though," Hermione argued.

"He could have provided for her and given her a better life than the other guy."

"Draco Malfoy. Is that what you want for yourself? To marry someone you don't love just because it's good for your image and society? You don't want to marry for love?" she angrily asked him.

"We've been over this, Granger. My parents did it. Their parents did it and their parents before that did it. It's the pureblood way."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she finished off her soup. She set it on the nightstand and settled back into her bed on her back.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked as he propped himself up against the headboard and reached for the remote. He noticed that her covers were still kicked off and instantly grabbed the top of the cover to bring up to Hermione's chin.

"Better," Hermione admitted as she watched Draco expertly change television channels, in awe of how attuned he had become to her needs. "Thanks for staying. You've kept my mind off the itching and scratching."

"Anytime, Granger," he smiled down at her. Her face was now covered in dots of pink lotion that Draco had been asked to buy for her. Still, with the pink lotion all over her face, she was able to look better than any other girl Draco had dated recently. The conversation was much better as well. She was actually kind of adorable, Draco admitted to himself.

Hermione smiled back and then frowned at noticing a small detail. "Uh oh."

"What uh oh?" Draco's smile disappeared.

"I think I see a mark on your face," Hermione said pointing up at the right side of his chin.

"What?" Draco furiously jumped out of her bed and ran to Hermione's bathroom to further inspect.

Hermione snickered as he began to inspect his skin, only to find nothing on his face. However, seeing wasn't believing as he checked his arms and lifted up his shirt to see his chest for any signs of red marks. "_That's what you get for eating my eggroll!"_ she thought to herself.


	8. Save the Date

Title: Pillow Talk, Save the Date

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies

Hermione shifted at the presence of somebody's weight dipping into the bed. She peeked open her eye and saw someone's bare, broad back sitting on the bed, facing the wall. She was lying on her usual side of the bed, her right side of the body facing towards the center of the bed, belly down. Although his identity was shielded by the darkness of the room, Hermione knew who it was. He had been working later and later recently and been coming home near midnight most nights. By then, Hermione would have already fallen asleep and woken up only in the middle of the night with a pair of arms wrapped around her. But this time, Hermione had woken up as Draco sat himself on the bed as he removed his watch and placed his wand on the nightstand. As he moved to swing his legs on the bed and underneath the covers he saw Hermione's eyes were open and staring back at him.

"Did I wake you?" he asked as he settled himself on his back and his head on his pillow.

Hermione silently shook her head yes. "But what else is new?" she smiled.

"As long as it's me, and not some other bloke," Draco smirked as he rolled Hermione over to the right side of her body, ignoring the rise of the hem of Hermione's coral silk nightie, and pulled her towards him so her back was nestled right up against his bare, toned chest. He wrapped his arms around hers and buried his face in the back of her neck. Hermione welcomed the embrace and had wondered how she had lasted so long without his arms around her years after having him visit her almost every night.

"How was work?" she asked, staring off at the wall.

"Long."

"Did you get what you needed done?"

"Yes. Now hush your inquiring mind," Draco requested as he mumbled into her hair.

"I miss you," Hermione admitted after a long pause.

"I'm right here."

"I know. You've just been working late nights a lot. I feel like I don't see you that often outside of the Ministry."

"I come home every night."

"I know," Hermione said. She sighed as her hands made lazy patterns on his arms.

After a pregnant pause, Draco braved to ask, "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Hermione assured him.

"You're lying," Draco raised his head off the pillow and turned Hermione around in his arms so he could take a good look into Hermione's eyes. It was much easier to read her when he could see her eyes.

"It's just…" Hermione began.

"Just?" Draco urged her.

"We haven't talked about where this is going," Hermione admitted hesitantly.

"What's this? You and me?" Draco asked shockingly.

Hermione nodded.

"You seriously don't know?" Draco asked raising his eyebrows, in disbelief that the brightest witch of their age didn't know where "this" was going. He supported his head on his right hand as his right arm propped him up on the bed.

"You say you love me," Hermione whispered.

"I do."

"For how long though?" she bit her lower lip.

"I'm not catching on, Hermione."

"Draco, we've lived together for a little over two years and I know your track record with girls and you tend to 'love 'em and leave 'em, so to speak," Hermione spoke softly.

A flash of anger appeared on Draco's face at hearing Hermione's confession, but it disappeared as he began to process Hermione's perception of how he viewed relationships and marriage.

His thoughts flashed back over the past two years and thought how almost every conversation they have had about marriage was not indicative of how Draco wanted to spend his life with Hermione.

* * *

><p><em>"I don't think I'll ever get married. Well, I should take that back. I don't get think I'll get married for the reasons people are suppose to be getting married."<em>

_"Why would you be getting married?"_

_"To preserve the Malfoy bloodline and secure my heir," he stated in a superior, masculine tone. _

* * *

><p><em>"So it's been quite a while since you've been dating her. I'm sure she expects something after all the attention you've been giving her," she assumed.<em>

_"I suppose so," he replied nonchalantly flipping his newspaper._

_"Don't lead her on, Draco. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," she warned from inside the closet._

_"I told you what I think about marriage, Granger. She knows that love isn't involved," he assured her._

* * *

><p><em>"Draco Malfoy. Is that what you want for yourself? To marry someone you don't love just because it's good for your image and society? You don't want to marry for love?" she angrily asked him.<em>

_"We've been over this, Granger. My parents did it. Their parents did it and their parents before that did it. It's the pureblood way."_

* * *

><p>Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. Hermione's eyes were staring back at his when realized that a long amount of silence passed between them.<p>

Draco took a deep breath and settle his head down back on their shared pillow. "Hermione Granger, you have nothing to worry about. I know in the past, I've said some things about marriage and relationships that haven't come across as the best evidence that I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but please, please know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't want you to be with me thinking that I will grow bored and tired of our relationship because that's what's happened to me in the past. But that's the past. This? You and me? This is my future. And I foresee it being much more different and for the better. Because you'll be with me."

Hermione sniffed. "You sure do have a way with making speeches," she laughed swatting at his chest.

Draco let out a low chuckle as he squeezed her closer to his body.

"So, are you saying that this, you and me, is for the long haul?" she asked.

"Do you need a proposal?"

"I've already had one proposal that I said yes to and look how that turned out," she scoffed as she buried her head in his chest.

"So, no proposal?" Draco concluded as he felt Hermione swing her right leg over his and hook around.

Hermione shook her head.

"So how about we just set a date?" Draco asked.

"Set a date? To be married?"

"Yeah, how's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Hermione exclaimed.

"What's wrong with tomorrow? You've already had a wedding, you've done the white dress, the flowers, and the decorations. You really want to go through that again?"

Hermione furiously shook her head no lifting up her face to look in his eyes. "Wouldn't everybody be mad? That we eloped? Your mother would be furious. Your father…I don't even want to think…"

"Do you care? Your wedding is about making yourself happy, not others. What would make me happy is a wedding vow ceremony with you and me. I could honestly care less if we had guests from 2 to 500. We can have a big party when we come back from wherever we go. Mother and Father will get over it. I imagine they would be upset, but you know what? Who cares? We'll face it together, side by side. I'm not here to make my parents happy. I want to make myself happy for once. And make you happy. And that involves being with you. We've talked about this, Hermione. Have you forgotten our discussion from that day already? Do what makes you happy," Draco stated as he ran his fingers through her hair. "So what would make you happy?"

Hermione let her fingers trace his pointed, yet devastatingly handsome features on his face. "You said it already. You and me. Saying our vows to each other. The only person that I care about hearing how much I love you and care for you is you. You're the only one that needs to know that I will promise to love you and be by your side until my dying breath and even beyond that. That's what matters to me," Hermione assured him.

"So do you want to set a date?"

"A date to elope?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded as he let his left arm wander down her side and leg that was wrapped around him.

"Do you want to wait? Do you think we should wait? After everything that's happened this past month? Are you ready to even–" Draco asked.

"Tomorrow's fine. Where are we going?" Hermione said as she leaned into him for a passionate kiss. She was excited to begin a life with Draco as soon as possible and anticipated for what would be a bright, happy future.

AN: Please leave a review. =) It seriously what keeps this story going.


	9. Lullaby

Title: Pillow Talk, Lullaby

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

><p>Draco was still coming to terms with Hermione's news. It had been four months later, and he was still digesting the fact that he would be a father in two short months. It had happened all so suddenly, the breaking of the news. Draco had surprised Hermione with an anniversary gift, a brand new home built just for them, a quaint little manor with plenty of room to grow. Draco had just finished showing Hermione the house and completed the tour of the upstairs living room and bedrooms. He jokingly mentioned that one day, they would have children that would occupy all of the rooms of the house and they would never have peace and quiet.<p>

"Could you imagine it?" Draco chuckled.

"Oh, I definitely can imagine it," Hermione smiled knowingly. "My guess is we'll only have peace and quiet for seven more months."

"Why seven?"

"Because I'm two months pregnant," Hermione smiled as she brought his hands up to her stomach.

"You're…you mean….wow…" Draco sputtered as he touched Hermione's warm stomach.

"Happy anniversary, Draco," Hermione said wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," Draco replied before kissing his wife in the empty home.

Flash forward four months later, they were finally settled in their new home with the furniture moved in and the boxes unpacked. Draco was lying on his back in bed with his eyes wide open. Hermione was sleeping from what Draco could tell. She was on her left side facing Draco, her breathing steady, and her lips parted. He looked over her form and noticed how she had kicked off the covers and her sleeping attire was of thin, cool material. His eyes wandered to Hermione's expanding belly and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

His baby girl was in there, sleeping as well. He felt that now was a good a time to voice his concerns. He was no stranger to making deep confessions to unconscious women. Draco scooted lower on the bed so that his head was aligned with Hermione's belly and turned his head towards the bump.

"Hello, baby girl. It's me. Your father. I really hope you don't call me 'Father', like I call mine. That's just setting you and I up for failure. You can call me Dad, or Papa, or Daddy. I don't like being formal, despite what others think. Speaking of which, when you grow up, people are going to say things about your dad and some of it's true, and some of it's not. I want you to know, that I love you and your mother. I'm not ashamed of my past. But it is my past. And your mother helped me change into what I am today.

I guess I wanted to talk to you about how nervous I am about being a father. Your mother would try and tell me different, saying that I am nothing like my own father and how I will be the best father you could ever have. Despite what your mother might say to soothe my nerves, I'm still skeptical. I don't know how to be a good dad. I don't know what it means to be a good father. My own father…I mean…he was too preoccupied with the dark arts and Voldemort to be there for me. I remember being raised by the house elves most of my life."

Draco laughed. "I guess you don't have anything to worry about there. Your mother won't allow house elves in the house." Draco paused as he turned his head up to look at Hermione. She was still in her deep slumber, breathing steadily.

"My secret hope is that your turn out more like your mother than you do me. Your mother is a very special person and she is important to a lot of people. She's smart, kind, considerate, beautiful, and the most amazing person I'll ever know. I have no idea why your mother chose someone like me. She had this perfect guy that was willing to marry her and give her everything, and he was good for her. And for some reason, she chose me."

"That's not true," Hermione sleepily replied shifting her weight around. She brought her right hand over to caress Draco's face and hair, which was still situated in front of her bump.

"What's not true?" Draco asked as he moved back up to the head of the bed and plopped his head next to hers.

"You were willing to marry me and give me everything. And you are good for me," she smiled as she opened her eyes to look into Draco's. Draco answered with a smile.

"I was just too stubborn to admit it at the time," Draco said.

"You did admit it eventually. It just took us a while to figure it out," Hermione replied. "What were you doing?"

"Talking to the baby," he replied simply.

Hermione chuckled as she moved a hand over her stomach and rubbed soothingly.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" Draco asked worriedly. At the news of Hermione's pregnancy, he became very zealous about Hermione's needs and wants. Chocolate frogs, peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, and rocky road ice cream runs were not out of the question.

"No, your daughter woke me up," Hermione smiled. "She must have not agreed with you statement either."

Draco laughed softly as he traced his finger along Hermione's belly, as if he was scared his mere touch would hurt the baby. Hermione strongly grabbed Draco's lingering hand with her right and asked, "Are you okay? You have this look on your face."

"I was just confessing to our daughter how I don't know how to be a good father. I'm scared I'm going to mess this up," Draco admitted. "What if I'm the worst father in the world? I didn't exactly have the greatest role model, did I?"

"Oh, poppycock," Hermione smiled. "You're going to be an excellent father. It's just a matter of learning as you go and willing to make mistakes in order to learn from them. You'll make mistakes. I'll make mistakes. No one is perfect."

"You are," Draco scoffed.

"I am certainly not perfect. I just…like being thorough," Hermione chuckled. "But it's okay, if we're not perfect parents. We'll learn together. Do you plan to be a part of our daughter's life?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to make sure she's safe?"

"Absolutely."

"Will you attend every ballet class, piano recital, art show, and quidditch game?"

"My daughter will not play quidditch! Too many boys and she could get hurt!"

"Oh, I think she will. Inheriting your athletic skills and my determination to be the best at everything, she'll play," Hermione smirked. "So will you?"

"Of course."

"And will you teach her how to be the best possible person she can be and guide her throughout her life?"

"Yes."

"And will you love her unconditionally?"

"Unequivocally yes."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Hermione smiled as she closed her eyes.

"Why do you know exactly what to say to calm my nerves?" Draco asked fascinated.

Hermione giggled. "I have had a lot of practice over the past few years. You're a lot more receptive in bed compared to at the office."

"Yeah, I don't know why that is," Draco said wiggling his eyebrows knowingly as he freed his hand from Hermione and shifted his body closer to Hermione's and grabbed her waist.

"You're incorrigible!" Hermione laughed.

"Mhmm…" Draco mumbled as he nuzzled the crook of her neck.

* * *

><p>Please leave a review! It's encouraging!<p>

K. Ly


	10. Happy Birthday

Pillow Talk, Happy Birthday

AN: To help you (wonderful) readers out I have constructed a list of these chapters in chronological order. I'm writing these chapters as inspiration comes along and have a few future plots already churning in my head. The story is listed as complete because I never know if I'm going to update with new chapters.

1. The Beginning

2. The Art of Gifting

3. Mr. Fashionista

**4. Happy Birthday**

5. Itchy and Scratchy

6. Penultimate

7. Save the date

8. Lullaby

9. Epilogue?

10. Bedtime stories (Which flashes back to a time between Penultimate and Save the date)

Hope this helps! Thank you for the great feedback and reviews. This kind of love for the story really keeps this story moving.

* * *

><p>So this what it was like to be hungover, or drunk. Or both. All Hermione could remember was that she flooed home from her birthday party at one of the new Wizarding London dance clubs. The night began early at 5 pm where Hermione and a few girlfriends had a nice dinner and wine. Afterwards, Hermione had intentions to go home and relax from the long week she had experienced at the Ministry. Her recent promotion left her more exhausted and now, all Hermione wanted to do was snuggle underneath her bedcovers and fall asleep. Hermione's friends kept encouraging her to join them at Jinx, a new dance club for the young witches and wizards. A little tipsy from the wine, Hermione agreed after mentally fighting with herself that she had become somewhat of a homebody. Hermione was turning 30 tomorrow. Thirty.<p>

Many drinks, many dances with strange wizards, and many hours later found Hermione tumbling out of the fireplace into an empty flat. Her short royal purple, silk chiffon dress reeked of smoke and alcohol. Hermione scrunched her nose at the dismal state of her dress as she stripped herself of dress, kicked off her killer heels, and trudged into her bedroom.

Hermione's bed never looked so inviting, however, Hermione didn't want to get into bed without taking a shower first. As Hermione took her shower to wash off the smell of the drinks, smoke, and smell of men who had all wanted to dance with the birthday girl, Hermione's thoughts drifted over how she spent the last night of her twenties, which thus shifted into how she spent the last year.

The last year was interesting to say the least. She never thought she would be living with Draco Malfoy, however, she found that it has been one of the best living situations she's ever had. Sure, they both got on each other's nerves from time to time, but that was normal. Hermione left her empty coffee mugs all over the place, and Draco was way too much a of clean freak for Hermione's tastes. They both respected each other's space, despite Draco's constant nighttime visits. But what Hermione found interesting was that Draco never brought a girl home, despite numerous reports of Draco's womanizing ways that was displayed on covers of Witch Weekly. Hermione began to think she was grateful that she got to know Draco on a more intimate level. She knew of his struggles with women and pressure to get married he felt by his parents. She saw the inner battle that he was having between duty and happiness, which tended to lean towards duty. She knew things that no one else knew about the illustrious Draco Malfoy. He liked Saturday morning cartoons; his favorite morning meal was black coffee with scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon; and he favors the left side of the bed.

Hermione stepped out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around her. As she dressed for bed and finished up her nightly routine, Hermione's thoughts once again drifted back to her situation and turning thirty. Hermione had dated a few men in the past months and found that she enjoyed spending time with one man in particular, a man she had been dating for the past six months. The relationship was new and exciting for Hermione. Someone was taking notice of her, appreciated her personality, and enjoyed spending time with her. So why was Hermione so hesitant about taking the next step?

Brushing off these thoughts, perceiving it to be too heavy of a topic for the birthday girl to be thinking about, Hermione's feet dragged themselves to Hermione's bed in the dark room. Her choice for pajamas that night? An old, oversized Puddlemere United quidditch shirt and boyshorts. Hermione stopped herself at the edge of the bed at the sight of someone else already settled in.

"Dracooooo," Hermione whined as she lifted the covers so she could slip underneath.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, his eyes remained closed.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed as her head hit the pillow; so grateful of the soft down feathers that were cradling her fuzzy thoughts.

"I just got in," Draco replied. He was underneath Hermione's covers as well, still dressed from the night's activities, a navy blue button down with black slacks. His shoes were discarded by the bedroom door. He was on his belly, with his face aimed towards the middle of the bed. His right cheek was pressed against the pillow.

"So you automatically came in here?" Hermione sighed.

"You were in the shower…did you want me to wait here or join you in the shower?"

"…"

"I thought so."

"Arse."

Draco smirked at the sound of Hermione cursing. "How was your night?"

"Fuzzy."

"Alcohol does that to you, Granger."

"You know, we've lived together for almost a year. You've probably called me by my first name like a total of four times while I've lived here. You think you can call me Hermione on a regular basis?" Hermione replied with a hint of annoyance as she shifted her head to look at his face.

"Nope," he replied with a pop of his 'p'.

"For Merlin's sake, why not?"

"It's weird. I've known you as Granger for most of my life. I don't like change."

"Truer words were never spoken."

A period of silence passed between them and Hermione swore she was sleeping when Draco asked, "So where did you go for your birthday?"

"How did you know it was my birthday? I don't remember telling you."

"I have my ways."

Hermione sighed as thoughts of the night rushed throughout her brain. "It was fine. The girls took me out for dinner, wine, and dancing."

"You danced?"

"With a lot of alcohol in me, yes."

"Did you dance by yourself?"

"Just with the girls and some guys who pressed themselves against us."

"Did you hex them?" Draco furrowed his eyebrow.

"I just about, yes." Another pause. "You're lucky, Draco," she sighed heavily.

"Why?"

"You haven't turned 30 yet."

"Yet, being the operative word."

"It's not the same for men as it is for women. When men turn 30, they become more distinguished, handsome, and women, we just get matronly, unwanted, and…old."

"What a load of crap."

"It's true."

"Obviously you're not unwanted, if you say guys were coming onto you on the dance floor."

"Oh please. They'll do anything to get a piece of…"

"It's all how you perceive aging, Granger. I see you turning thirty as a woman who knows what she wants in life and she won't take anyone's shit."

"Well gee, that's appealing."

"It is," Draco argued. "You don't have time to pussyfoot around. You have a career, you've shown that you can be independent; you're a strong woman. That's way more appealing than a twenty-two year old, who is all bright eyed about falling in love with the first man that looks their way. You say one nice compliment about the way they look and they think it's a marriage proposal."

"How was your date by the way?" Hermione asked.

"I'm in bed with my thirty year old roommate. How do you think it went?"

Hermione slapped him on the back, hard.

"OW! Dammit, woman? What was that for?" Draco yelped, opening his eyes.

"You called me old!"

"I said, thirty year old! Not old roommate!" Draco replied annoyingly.

Realizing her mistake, Hermione sighed. "Oh, sorry."

"Geez, Granger. That hurt," Draco winced.

"I'm sorry. I think it's all the alcohol. It's affected my hearing," Hermione whispered. "Or maybe because I'm old."

"So is this what I'm to expect every year on your birthday? You getting down on yourself for every year you turn older? It won't get any worse will it?"

"You plan to be around for more birthdays?"

"Not if it's like this. I thought the birthday girl was supposed to get spanked, not the unsuspecting, consoling roommate who is trying to make you feel better."

"I said sorry."

"Mhmm."

Hermione shifted her head away from Draco's and took notice of a wrapped gift on her nightstand.

"What's this?" Hermione asked as she reached over to pick up the present. It was rather light despite it's large appearance.

"In most countries, Granger, it's customary to give a birthday present to the birthday girl on her birthday," Draco replied.

"Smartass."

"No more so than you, my dear."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"It is also customary for the birthday girl to open the birthday gift on her birthday."

"Do you want to get slapped again?"

"Can I choose where you slap me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat up against the headboard. She turned on the light so she could see a bit better. Draco remained unmoved from his spot on the bed.

She fingered the red ribbon as her other hand glided over the white, glittery wrapping paper.

"You know, I remember something during Christmas last year where I was told ripping the paper off was one of the best parts about opening gifts," Draco recited.

"I'm just in shock, is all."

"In shock? About what? You really think I would be a schmuck and not get you anything for your birthday?"

"No…just unexpected is all. Truthfully, I don't know how you even knew it was my birthday. I didn't mention it to you. I've been pretty quiet about it since it's the big 3-0."

"I told you. I have my ways. So open it," he commanded.

Hermione ripped open the paper with gusto as she unveiled a large box. She shimmied off the top of the box to reveal, what else, a large book. Hermione peered closely at the title of the book to realize it said "Hogwarts, A History." Hermione's eyes widened. It was the latest edition about the history of Hogwarts and this one was more special to Hermione as this edition included research and history that Hermione herself had contributed.

"How…what...how did you get this? This wasn't supposed to be released until next year!" she squealed, looking over to Draco whose face was still planted on one of her pillows.

"I told you. I have my ways," he smiled. A genuine smile.

Hermione grinned as she lifted the book out of the box. It's heaviness plopped itself into her lap.

"Featherweight charm on the box?"

"What else? There was no way I was going to lug that thing in here without one."

"Thank you, Draco. I love it," Hermione softly said as she gingerly opened the book.

"You're welcome, Granger," Draco yawned closing his eyes. "Happy Birthday."

Sleep was the last thing on Hermione's mind now. The night's previous events all became a distant memory as she giddily ran her hands along the book's fresh pages. However, sleep was the Draco's first thing on his mind as he drifted off to sleep in Hermione's bed as she perused the new book in the brightly lit room. Thirty may not be a bad year, after all.

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><p>Please leave a review!<p> 


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